long days of blue and black
by letthesongtakeflight
Summary: Tony thought that buying Natasha a farm was a good idea. Natasha disagrees. Established Tony/Natasha relationship, post Age of Ultron, contains spoilers.


**Spoilers** for Age of Ultron.

This fic takes place in an AU where Tony and Natasha are a couple.

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 _You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you, only blue or black days. -Hozier, Someone New_

"You did _what?!_ "

Tony squirmed under his girlfriend's fiery stare. He couldn't decide whether she was furious or shocked, or both. Probably both. Dear God, this was not working out well. He gulped and answered. "A farm. I bought you a farm. Us, bought us, I mean." The phrase _May God have mercy on you_ ran through his head.

Natasha made a noise of exasperation. "And why exactly would you think that's a good idea?" she managed to get out.

"Um, at Clint's farm, you looked… happy?" Tony wasn't sure whether that was the right word for it but it was the closest he could get. She wasn't _happy_ , not exactly, especially not with what that Maximoff chick did to her hours before. But she had at least been more relaxed there, like she could breathe a little easier. Like it was a place she could be away from the rest of the world and the troubles that awaited her there. She could be herself, and the way Clint's little girl had run into her arms and she'd picked her up… that had touched something in Tony that he never thought could be touched, that he had never even let himself acknowledge. Until the farm.

"Happy?" Her eyebrows pulled down in the middle."I'm…" She frowned. "Well, yeah, I guess happy's one way to put it." She wore an expression of apprehensive indecisiveness.

"Yeah, like you're, uh, less burdened." Tony gave up trying to explain that and said instead, "Look, we'd both been through hell these past couple of days, with Ultron and Sokovia and everything. With the tower under reconstruction, I figured that we should have a place to rest. Recuperate, relax, and just be with each other." His expression softened and he stepped closer to her. His hand hovered hers but didn't touch her. He never touched her when they fought, like he was afraid – with good cause – that she would grab him and break his wrist or worse. "I missed you, Nat. I want time for just us, without everyone else around here trying to lift hammers or getting mind-fucked or whatever."

Natasha took on a knowing smirk. "As I recall you were the first to try lift that damn hammer."

Tony relaxed, grinning openly now. "And you didn't even try."

She shrugged. "I knew the answer without trying."

"If I designed that damn thing, you'd –"

"It would probably try kill us all." Natasha grinned. At Tony's wounded look she said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to…" She turned her hand to lace her fingers with his. "I missed you too; you know that," she said, deftly changing the topic to a sweeter one. "And I get why you bought the farm. It's just that… why a farm exactly? I mean, if you just wanted a place for us to be alone your island would have served just as well. Probably even better," she added with a suggestive smirk.

"Yeah, it's not just that," Tony admitted. "You seemed so natural at Clint's, I thought you'd like one of your own." His thumb ran over the back of her hand. "You looked happy there. Like you belonged."

She gave a dark laugh and drew away. "What, the rustic life and tractors that don't work, and domesticity and – chi –" She broke off. "You know we can't have that."

"Nat…"

"I'm an Avenger, Tony. We're both Avengers," she said, jagged edges in her voice, though he couldn't tell whether they were lashed towards him or herself. "We have responsibilities beyond that, we don't have the luxury of settling down and raising a family and –"

"I know that," he said fiercely. He grabbed her by the shoulders and she looked up at him with shock in her green eyes. "I know that as well as you do. We can never have all of that. But we might be selfish enough to have some of it. If we try hard enough, if we fight for it in between fighting to save the world."

"Some of it? Like what, the children and family part? Cause you know that we can't, that _I_ can't."

"Natasha, we've been through this." His voice grew gentler but didn't completely lose its rough edge. "I know that we can't have children, and frankly speaking, I really don't care about that. I just want us to be happy; not even all the time, or most of the time, but just some of the time." She nodded and her coldness melting away, she leaned towards him. Her arms around his waist, her head on his chest. His arms came around her body, his hands resting at the small of her back and holding her securely against him.

"Do you ever want kids?" Tony wasn't sure why he asked that, but it came out of his mouth anyway.

"No," was her automatic reply. Then a pause, and then, "I don't know. It doesn't matter, it won't happen either way."

"But if it could," Tony pushed, "would you want to?"

"I don't know. Maybe, if it was with you, if we were anything close to normal." Natasha felt like her heart was being ripped from her chest as she spoke, and somehow Tony sensed her distress and held her tighter, one of his hands coming up to rest between her shoulder blades in that spot that always made her feel safe. So she continued, "When I see Clint with his kids, sometimes I feel like there's more that we could have, and it's because of me that we can't have that." Her voice trembled and she clenched her teeth hard.

"Shush, you were never given a choice," Tony chided. "They took that from you." The thought of that always made him angry. It wasn't just about the loss of her fertility, really; it was the loss of her childhood, her innocence, the chance for her to find out who she was before being molded into a weapon.

Like she read his mind, Natasha said, "That makes me angry." Her voice was more even now, though he could still hear the trace of a tremor. "That I was never given a choice, that it was made for me by some people who've probably never even seen my face or heard my voice, much less cared about me. That they did it because they needed a weapon and it was simply part of the manufacturing process. And most of all, it makes me angry that I let them do that without protesting, without even thinking. At that point my whole life revolved around becoming a Black Widow, it was what all my training had been for, ever since I was four years old. And I just let them do it like it meant nothing. That's what makes me angriest – that I practically gave it away myself."

"But you've proven yourself better than that," Tony said. "You left, when you realized what they'd done to you, that they'd made you into a _thing_ , a less-than-person. You broke through all the conditioning and the programming. You beat them, Tasha, and you took their weapon and made it into a person." He cupped her jaw and drew back just enough to look into her eyes. "A person with loves and hates and friends and enemies and connections and relationships. You became more than they ever intended you to be. You've won. And that's why I love you, because you're a fighter and you won't be beaten and you're going to stand back up again every time, stronger than you were before."

Natasha couldn't stop the smile. "You can't just say stuff like that."

He smirked, though it turned out as more of a genuine smile than he'd intended ."Just did." And he leaned down to kiss her.

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 **Note:** I watched Age of Ultron today, and I got home with a writing binge. Which is why this happened.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing recognizable.


End file.
